Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Apathetic would be the way to describe how I feel about these places.
Turning her right wrist so she could see the narrow face of her watch with its silver filagree arms designating the time, she took a deep breath. Only to immediately regret it. Not that it was horrible, but there were an awful lot of perfumes and colognes intermixed with the city scents.
She would have to do some exploring while she was here. If she agreed to the job after meeting Mr. Rhodes. Smoothing a hand down the curve of her hip over her purple suit coat, she walked to the door, steps brisk and businesslike.
The security guard at the door eyed both her and the briefcase she carried and shifted to position himself in her path. His dark-gray suit coat fit him like a glove and the slacks he wore completed the outfit. If his intent was to both blend and look intimidating, it worked.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, you can’t take that briefcase inside.”
“I have a meeting with Mr. Rhodes in five minutes. I need the briefcase for that. If you could call up to him and let him know Ms. Wentz is here.”
She wasn’t a fan of confrontations, but she knew her worth with regards to her job. If Livingston Rhodes wanted her to help him, he damn sure would let her in with her things.
Blue eyes roved over her and she knew what he saw. And as was the case with most men, she was found lacking. She wasn’t a beauty by any means. There were curves, not like her adopted sisters had, but she’d spent a few years malnourished and she wasn’t ever going to be like some. Not that she was ugly, she just didn’t command men’s attention by walking into a room. Worked for her, though. She’d spent her growing-up years trying not to be the center of attention.
Following his wordless gesture, she trailed him to a phone by the door and grasped the leather handle of her Buccio Ragusa briefcase with both hands. A gift from her adopted family, it even had her initials monogramed on the left corner of the flap. Outwardly, she presented calm—inside was a completely different story.
Her heartbeat raced like the horses at the Derby, and she couldn’t account for why. Adrenaline kicked through her and she wanted to sit and put her head between her knees. Skin prickling, she scanned the area, grateful for her Transitions, which hid her gaze from the guard and whomever would be watching on the numerous security cameras she didn’t doubt were focused on her.
“I apologize, ma’am. I have a guard coming to escort you to his office.”
“You’re just doing your job.”
He gave a small nod. If it was for thanks, or understanding of her comment, she couldn’t be sure. Didn’t really matter, either. In the next few seconds another man, dressed identically to the one who’d stopped her, appeared. His bright red hair almost brought a smile to her face. Shredded carrots.
Great, now she wanted carrot cake.
“If you’ll follow me.”
She fell into step with him. Neither man had given their name. Is that common? Are they taking me out back to shoot me?
Okay, no more late-night horror shows for her.
I should focus on the carrot cake.
They stuck to the edge of the casino and made their way to a bank of elevators. People moved out of this man’s way without him having to say anything. Hell, even small talk would have been preferable to the awkward silence. A red-and-gray door opened and she stepped in at the man’s gesture.
She didn’t do a lot of talking, but this was bugging her. Not even registering the floor they halted on, she walked out and waited for the man to tell her where to head next. At the end of the short hall, to the left, sat a wide set of double doors.
He opened the door for her and gave her a small smile. “He’s expecting you. And his secretary is right there.”
“I appreciate the escort.” The man slipped away and she progressed to the large glass desk behind which a petite woman sat, her golden hair drawn back in a French braid. “I’m Ms. Wentz and I have an appointment with Mr. Rhodes.”
Her gaze flickered over Daisy as she smiled. “Of course. Right on time. He’ll appreciate that.” Nails a shade of soft bubblegum pink flashed as she picked up the receiver and pressed a button. “Mr. Rhodes, your one o’clock is here.” A pause. “Right away, sir.”
The woman hung up the phone and pushed back from the desk. She walked around the corner and right up to Daisy, who felt dowdy next to this woman in her skin-tight dress and five-inch heels that she walked in so easily.
I have problems with heels.
“Follow me, please.”